New words...

My puppy momma has taught me two more words.  She doesn't want to me to share them, but this is my blog, not hers.


Oh, crap:  This means that she's just come from the basement and has forgotten to bring up that which she went to fetch and has to turn around and go back down and then up the stairs all over again.

Stop:  This is an abbreviation for WHAT-DO-YOU-THINK-YOU-ARE-DOING-IMMEDIATELY-CEASE-WHAT-YOU-ARE-DOING!  Mostly, that is.  "Stop" is also a reminder that I am not to go running to the fence to bark fearfully (digging my paws into the mulch and getting all dirty) at the huge dog sitting at the fence two yards over.  "Stop" also means to not water the bottom post of the new back steps.  I guess, really, "Stop" means to not do the things I want to do that Myrtle believes I shouldn't be doing even though I think I should.


Frankly, I would like to teach Myrtle some new words.  I mean, she wants me to take all of my business—major and minor—out of doors.  I let her know of my dire needs by whining for minor things and gurgle-growling for major needs.  However, sometimes my puppy momma is so tired that she does not hear me.

The other night, well, I just couldn't get her attention.  I was left with no other option than to conduct my major business right there in her lap.  Myrtle is still miffed at me.

Why is it that I am the one who got blamed for her not listening to me??????


This is my life with Myrtle.  Amos Adams signing off!

Please explain...

Last night, I was taking my ease on the sidewalk, sitting straight up, but with my backside off of my legs.  I turned around to look at my puppy momma sitting in her GREEN rocking chair on the back porch.  And what does she do?  That silly Myrtle just bursts into tears.

Being a kind puppy gentleman, I raced over to her and hopped up on her lap to start washing away her tears.  I asked her what was wrong.  When she finally calmed down, Myrtle told me that I was so  adorable and that she didn't deserve to get to admire me day after day after day.  Or something like that.  She was still sniffing a lot.

Huh?

I am an adorable fellow, I must admit, adorable even when I was just a little pup.  But still.  Can someone please explain puppy mommas to me???????


This is my life with Myrtle.  Amos Adams signing off!

I want one...

I was pursuing the Internet the other day, sitting in Myrtle's lap, when something caught my eye:




Frankly, I believe that Myrtle has been a bit selfish with her corn.  After all, she has never given me an ear on which to chow down.

Now, I do live a charmed life in a culinary sense.  Myrtle, being weary much of the time, saves on dishwashing labors by allowing me to pre-clean all plates, bowls, and saucers.  Occasionally, if I have been especially good whilst she is cooking, my puppy momma will let me lick a serving spoon or spatula.

Of course, the trade-off is that Myrtle does not really give me doggy treats.  She has the world's tiniest doggy bones that I earn when I properly conduct my major business out of doors.  But only one at a time.  They are so small, I barely taste them before they are gone.  Basically, all those doggy treats and bones and chews out there will never cross our threshold.  Sometimes, I wonder what I am missing.  However, yesterday I got to clean up after a plate of Beef with Sugar Snap Peas and today a bowl of Beef Stew with Beer.  Tastiness abounds in our home.

Still, don't you think that Myrtle ought to start making me an ear of corn when she cooks corn?  I do.  Perhaps you could start an Internet campaign to change her mind?


This is my life with Myrtle.  Amos Adams signing off!

A strange new word...

Myrtle taught me a new word today.  Or a game.  Or both.  I am not sure what I think of it, but she laughed and laughed and laughed.  I like hearing my puppy momma laugh.

One of the things that Myrtle taught me is the word "where."  Where means find, actually, as I understand it.  That dawned on me tonight when Myrtle taught me her ... game. Definitely, I think it is a game.  Like Fetch.

Sometimes my puppy momma likes to distract me by asking me, "Where's your baby?"  Or she will ask, "Where's your ball?"  That sets me off to find one of my many babies or balls and bring it back so that we can play together.  Both babies and balls alike, Myrtle will throw them across the room, let me play with them a bit after I bring them back, and then take them from me to toss away again.  She knows.  My puppy momma knows that I would never just leave a baby lying by itself across the room.

Of course, when it comes to babies, one is never enough, so I like to bring two or three.  You need at least two because it is ever so comforting to tuck a baby beneath your chest as you lie on the floor nuzzling your baby and making it squeak.

Anyway, today, Myrtle taught me "Where's Momma?"

Myrtle hid herself from me and then called out.  The first time, she asked, "Where's Momma?" and then followed it up with words I know:  "Come-Come-Come!"  After some searching, I found her hiding behind one of the doors to the parlor.  She started toward the living room, and so I raced ahead.  Only Myrtle tricked me.  She didn't follow.  Instead, once more, I heard, "Where's Momma?" then a long pause followed by "Come-Come-Come."

I also found Myrtle hiding on the servant's stairs, in the half bath, and on the landing to the basement stairs.  By the last, Myrtle only had to ask, "Where's Momma?" and I would come find her. Each time I did, Myrtle laughed and picked me up to let me rest my head upon her shoulder, relax my body against hers, and just soak up all her loving of my canine self.  I don't get to do that as much as I'd like these days, being held that is.  She teases me that I am getting heavier, but really we both know she is getting weaker.

I was the one laughing when Myrtle, having squeezed herself in between the wall and a burled maple chest to hide had a very hard time squeezing herself back out.  Since she was down low, I squeezed myself in there, too, and climbed into her lap and gave her lots of kisses.  She laughed even harder.  Saying something that means something to her but not to me:  "Silly Amos, Trix are for kids!"

I do have my suspicions, though, about this game.  I mean, Myrtle does very little moving, whilst I'm racing all about the house.  It is kind of like when Myrtle sits at the top of the stairs and tosses one of my squeaky balls down the stairs for me to fetch and bring back to her.  She just sits there and I do all this climbing and descending of stairs.

Myrtle says it's good for me.
Why is it that things that are good for you are often hard work??


This is my life with Myrtle.  Amos Adams signing off!

Vocabulary Lessons...

So, well, Myrtle finally agreed to type for me again. I think it is because of the topic I proposed.  You see, having a puppy momma who is disabled with chronic neurological illness means that you learn different vocabulary words than most puppy dogs. I wanted to share a few:


Darn-it!:  This means that you need to leap off of your puppy momma's lap even though you just settled down because she forgot to get fresh ice packs for the wonky nerves on the back of her head when she was up getting something else.

Laundry:  This means that you need to race upstairs and stand at the top to make sure your puppy momma is following, run around in circles as she fetches the laundry basket, race downstairs and watch to make sure you are out of the way if she falls, run ahead through the kitchen to the basement steps and race down them, then take up your part of the laundry process, which is sitting atop each of the piles as your puppy momma divides her laundry to keep them from getting too high.

Come:  This means that you need to hastily take your puppy dog self to your puppy momma's side because she is missing you, now that you have overcome your anxiety and learned to remain behind if she leaves the room.

Come-Come-Come:  This means that even though you are curled up at your puppy momma's side or on her lap that she is need of greater comfort and wants you to climb up on her chest and tuck your neck against hers, preferably falling asleep and snoring if possible.

Don't!:  This means that, even though you spend most of your time curled up next to or on your puppy momma, she is in so much pain that you have to inch your puppy dog self away from her and comfort her with your presence but not touch her in any fashion.

Why-Are-You-Doing-This-To-Me?!:  This means that your puppy dog momma has reached the end of her patience with you watering every living thing in the back yard and you need to conduct your major business post haste or massive amounts of tears and raised voices and then heaping amounts of remorse and self-recrimination will follow ... things that will make you both very, very, very unhappy.

Time for Bed:  This means that you are going to be in the bedroom for long amounts of time so that it is important for you to utterly and completely empty your bladder.

Clean-Up!:  This means that your puppy momma has dropped or knocked or spilled a bit of food on the kitchen floor and needs you to come eat it so she doesn't have to bend over and pick it up, because bending over often makes her faint.

Do-You-Want-Some-Food?: This means that my puppy momma is willing to get up and feed me if I am willing to get up and eat.  Sometimes, continuing a nap is actually more appealing than food, so I appreciate the choice.


I am sure there are more words I have learned because Myrtle is my puppy momma, but these are the one that come to mind just now.  Last night, Myrtle said, "Come-Come-Come," so I did.  But I asked her to write for me today.  So she did.


This is my life with Myrtle.  Amos Adams signing off!

When did we move to Siberia...

Snow.  LOTS of snow.  And more snow.

Snow and really, really, really cold temperatures.  So cold that it is sometimes hard to keep my paws on the ground.  Yet Myrtle keeps sending my outside to do my business anyway.

The snow here is almost always fluffy and soft. Most of the time, there has not been too much of it at any one time.  And I can just wade through the stuff to tend to my needs.  But lately there's been snow piled up higher than my head.  Even so, Myrtle expects me to figure things out.

I note that she never  has to tend to her business in the snow.  How is that fair??

This is the last snow storm.  Right now, more and more and more snow is falling, even though my puppy momma keeps grumbling about how the forecast said there would be only light snow today.

Can you see me?
There in the door?
Watching over my puppy momma?

For some reason, Myrtle won't let me outside when she works on clearing her walkways.  So, I am left, alone, indoors, worrying about my puppy momma.  Shoveling makes her faint.  When she mowed and fainted, I would lick her face to wake her up.  No one is out there to lick her face.  Myrtle says the snow does a good job of licking her face.  Still, I worry.

I think that snow should only be allowed to fall in manageable proportions.  Don't you?  I also happen to think that when it snows, puppy dogs should be allowed to tend to their business indoors.  Don't you?  Please, have a word with Myrtle about that, will you?  Thanks.  Truly.


This is my life with Myrtle.  Amos Adams signing off!

God bless inventors...

And Aunt Celia and Uncle Eric, of course.

They sent my puppy momma an electric blanket for Christmas.  That and a foot warmer for the bed.  I think that they actually sent the blanket to me and Myrtle just misunderstood.  But whoever invented the microfiber plush electric blanket is my new best friend.  It's so warm!

Myrtle has been keeping the heat down to save money.  So, it is a tad cold in the house.  You would think she'd let my curls grow out to help ward off the constant chill, but Myrtle says they tangle too much.  So, I've been a cold dog for a long while.  Until.  Until this bit of magic came into our world.




 
After much, much, much practice, I have learned to burrow inside the blanket whenever Myrtle gets up off the couch or the GREEN chair.  The key is to find a way to have the blanket both beneath and around me.  Then, I can roast in happiness.

Lest you worry, Myrtle's disease means that she does not regulate her body temperature well.  So, the electric blanket and foot warmer help when her chills set in, but she always keeps the blanket set low lest she become overheated.  The foot warmer, on the other hand, she had on high, since her feet often turn blue.  But I don't go near it.  I have my own warmer in the bed:  Myrtle's body.  She doesn't mind that I drape myself about her.  My puppy momma can be quite accommodating.

Sometimes.
Never about bacon.
But I digress.

Sidney I. Russell.  God bless Sidney.  Well, God also bless those who came after the man who invented the heated under blanket in 1912.  A good man.  A man who understood the value of warmth.  And God bless John K. Stewart and Thomas J. Clark who created the Chicago Flexible Shaft Company that was the grandparent of the company that eventually created my blanket, Sunbeam.  Australians really understand heat.  And softness.  And the needs of puppy dogs who have puppy mommas on a limited budget.


This is my life with Myrtle.  Amos Adams signing off!